The One Legged Stripper

Toronto…again. You know, the place where “fuck off” seems to be  more of a term of endearment than it is in any other locality.

Have you ever noticed, that no real good story begins with “we were drinking milk and eating pie when….”? Well, have you? Don’t worry, this one doesn’t. You should figure from the title alone, there was very little milk involved at all.

My room mate Chuck and I had spent a very fruitful afternoon drinking Pina…shit…beer and shots at The Nags Head. Wonderful place, no ferns, good old rock and roll music or old time Country, and not an umbrella drink within fifty yards of the bar. It was a Saturday afternoon, and Chuck and I, being young, drunk and with a brand new Visa card in my wallet decided to hit up “The Naked Eye” a new strip club on Yonge.

Ever notice, everything with us happened on Yonge Street. Well, nicely lubricated, we crossed and entered the new, improved….you get the picture…new owner, clean carpet. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a strip club in Toronto…loud music, blue air from the cigarettes,  and strippers all waiting for fresh meat to enter. Well, in came the fresh meat….young, drunk, and well…did I mention we were drunk.

We ordered a couple of beers from the first waitress we stumbled into and sat at the back. Most people work their way to the front, not us…oh no…we wanted to make sure we had a quick way out should things go bad…and in our condition, the odds of that happening were quite good. The beer arrived, we paid, and our attention was directed to the main stage….the only stage…but, in the lexicon of the strip club dj….it was the MAIN STAGE.

There, for our forthcoming enjoyment, was the largest, most hideous looking dancer I had ever laid eyes on. Now, I love women, don’t get me wrong….but, in this situation, things were best left covered, if you know what I mean. So, we started cheering….loudly….”keep it on”…..”keep it on”….which attracted the attention of not only the crowd…of about eight other drunks, but, of the bar staff, security, and the DJ….who, told us…to sit down and “fuck off” with the yelling…she hadn’t started yet.

We replied, we know…and continued. Now, you know why we sat at the back….to make it easier for the bouncers to remove us…which they did in no short time. Rather than attempt to head back in…we went up the road to another club, downstairs from another place we had been to….and we tried there.

The name is lost to history, thankfully, but….the bar was amazing….day glo paints on the wall, the carpets, the bar, the chairs…it looked like a Salvador dali nightmare in real life. And there upon our entry….was the strangest thing I have ever seen in a strip joint…minutes before the police arrived…..a dancer….on one leg…beating a customer up for apparently touching something he shouldn’t have…..oh yeah..she was beating him up with her other leg…..she had a stump….and was clobbering this bugger with the fake one.

No one came to his aid….they were laughing too much, and we just stood there in the doorway, as the police came by and arrested him and sent her back to work. I never did see her dance, and we never did return….we left after the police….to find somewhere else to have misadventures.




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